Bel Canto
by Morri's Shadow
Summary: [The Phantom of the Opera2004] Here's a deliciously melodramatic piece that disregards the end of the movie completely to be a little naughty. Not for kids or haters of the cliche.


**Disclaimer/Author's Notes:** So, yeah, I watched "The Phantom of the Opera" (the recent movie version) a few days ago and my Muse made me write this. It's in no way based on the reportedly very excellent book or the fabulously melodramatic musical, so there are likely several differences here from those. Strictly movie-inspired (although I understand that both the book and musical are lovely). Anyway, here's a short that has Christine doing what her orgasm faces every time she was around the Phantom suggested that she would do, namely drop wimpy guy and stick with the creepy guy. Warning, this is melodramatic softcore porn! I discovered how much fun cheesy dialogue can be and ran with it. I will take no responsibility for anyone that snorts an object of food up his/her nose while reading the dialogue or who is too young to read naughty things. Thank you for your time and enjoy.

"Bel Canto"

The Phantom's cries to leave rang in her ears as Christine rushed to her fiancé. Raoul's face held relief, fear, and just a hint of disgust as Christine hurried to free him from the tight ropes holding him to the gate. The relief and fear she understood but the disgust, as it was so obviously directed towards her, made her feel weak. Didn't he see? She'd had no choice but to kiss the Phantom, to make him think that she would be his if only he would free Raoul.

Of course she hadn't had to kiss him more than once. She hadn't had to search out his lips hungrily with her own, fairly crushing herself against him in sudden mad passion. She hadn't had to kiss the side of his face that was free of scars or contemplate kissing the side horribly deformed. She hadn't had to long for more when he'd pulled away.

All this and more feverish thoughts raced through her mind as Raoul led her wordlessly to the boat. Later she knew there would a gentle lecture over what had happened. He would carefully explain that he didn't blame her for giving herself to the Phantom and that he loved her still. He would never ask if she'd seriously wanted to stay. The answer would likely be too much for him to bear.

Raoul stepped gingerly into the small skiff, holding his ribs. The blood was already slowing to a trickle as he held out a hand to her. Christine placed her small hand in his and began to climb into the boat when a flashing light stopped her. She stared in wonder at the ring still sparkling on her finger. She would never think of it as anything other than the Phantom's ring. His gift to her.

"Christine, we must hurry before he changes his mind," Raoul whispered urgently as the Phantom raged behind them. Christine winced at the sound of glass breaking, but dared not turn around. She worried for a moment that the Phantom would hurt himself in his anguish and suddenly she knew what she had to do.

"I cannot go with you," she said, softly and incredibly even to her own ears. Her wide eyes rose to meet the stunned brown ones before her. She noticed that they lacked passion or even anger at her words, just a dull shock, and she knew that she was making the right choice.

"Christine, cease this madness. We must flee."

"No, Raoul." Christine reached out briefly to touch his smooth perfect face. "I do love you."

Her hand fell away and she stepped back.

"But I must be with him. He is the other half of me."

She swiftly turned and walked towards the room the Phantom had finally trudged into, his destructive pain obviously turning to sorrow. Behind her Raoul called out her name desperately, but she knew he wouldn't follow her. He had seen the resolve on her face. There would be no persuading her now.

Despite her certainty Christine slowed as she neared the entrance to the Phantom's private room. She saw him weeping over his music box, his hands clutched around a small doll. She felt her heart twist wrenchingly at his anguish, but was unable to say a word.

Finally he glanced up and their eyes met once again. She felt the same paralyzing thrill that she'd experienced every other time he'd looked at her but in this instance it was paired with a gentle sympathy and tenderness. That he was a monster she didn't question, although it had nothing to do with his face as he supposed. However he was a passionate and feeling monster. She longed to bring out the man in him once more.

"Christine?" His voice was a murmur in the darkness and his face was shadowed with hope and doubt.

She had a brief moment when she realized that she could still leave. She could give him back the ring and walk away. Raoul would no doubt be waiting for her even now and would forgive her easily despite her words.

This idea was dismissed immediately and she strode forward, taking the doll from his hands to replace it with her own small hands. She collapsed to the floor in front of his and peered up, praying he would see the sincerity in her eyes.

"I promised myself to you. I will not leave."

His mouth moved soundlessly as he processed her words. Finally he managed a faint, "What are you saying?"

"That I love you. Nothing more and nothing less."

"And your lover?" he asked, a dark jealousy overcoming his face at even the thought of Raoul.

"He is gone. Off to live a life with no music or passion. I cannot live that life." Christine hesitated and then cupped her palm to the scarred part of his face. He flinched but didn't turn away. "I will live in the darkness with you and we will make beautiful music together."

"Oh, Christine," he breathed and couldn't stop himself from leaning over to kiss her soft waiting lips.

"My love." Christine allowed herself to melt against him for a time before pulling away. She stood resolutely.

He appeared hurt for a moment before she gently pulled on his arm, urging him to his feet.

"We must flee, darling. You're not safe here. There are men coming for you." She tried to lead him to the entrance but he drew to sudden halt, pulling her back to him.

"No, this way, my angel," he said, his earlier fears and sorrows fading to be replaced by the confident genius that had first taught her delicacies of the opera. He went to a part of the wall that was half-covered in curtain and pulled it aside to reveal an empty candle-holder. Christine glanced up at the Phantom quizzically but he shook his head tolerantly at her before twisting the holder to one side.

Suddenly the wall fell back, showing that it hid a small passageway. Christine laughed lightly at the cleverness of her opera ghost before following him into the darkened tunnel.

"It is too dark. How will we see where we are going?" Christine asked the Phantom, clutching to his arm as she stumbled along the rough floor.

"I do not need my eyes to find my way around this opera house. It has been my playground since I was a child." True to his word the Phantom walked as though they were on the main street in the middle of the day and soon they were standing in front of another curtained wall. This time he merely pulled aside the curtain to reveal a small bedroom.

"This room has never been used in the years that I've lived here and it is far from where the fire will go." The Phantom stared lustfully at Christine as she marveled at the tiny room. It wasn't as lavishly decorated as the rest of the opera house, but it was surprisingly clean for an abandoned room. There was an old vanity half-hidden behind a small red couch and an intricately carved oak chair beside a wide four-poster bed.

"It's wonderful." Christine smiled knowingly at the bed, a blush threatening to overcome her pale face. She knew why he had brought her here.

"You are wonderful," he said, pulling her into his arms reverently.

Christine's head fell back helplessly as the Phantom began kissing her neck in thoughtless desire. She felt a stirring in her body that she'd only ever felt around this man and for once she wasn't afraid of it. She was eager to let the fire consume her.

"My love." Christine gently pulled away slightly, still held in his strong arms but able to see his face. He couldn't quite meet her eyes yet in his attempt to show her only the smooth skin of his left side. She felt a sudden sadness over the torment the years had caused him, but it was quickly replaced by a playful joy. She cupped his face in her slender hands.

"It is our wedding night," she whispered urgently. There was slight pain in her heart that she would never be able to stand in a church beside her lover and be wed in the eyes of all, but she couldn't dwell on it. Having him was enough.

"Yes." The Phantom's voice was low and heated. He paused as sudden doubt clouded his features. "Are you certain? There is no turning back from this, Christine."

Christine's answer was to take one of his large hands and place it over the exposed swell of her breasts. His breathing quickened with hers as he stared for a moment at his fingers splayed out over the warm skin. Slowly—so slowly—he began to caress the bare skin as his other hand found the ties on her wedding dress and started to loosen them. Christine let out a high cry as the Phantom reached down her now hanging bodice to cup one firm breast. He fingered her small nipple tenderly with his thumb, watching her reactions with an unconcealed wonder. He strummed more sweet notes from her as he stroked her responsive body and attempted to undo the last of her stubborn ties.

With a frustrated grunt, the Phantom ripped the remaining ribbons apart and Christine's bodice fell away from her upper body. He helped her out of it and the shift she wore underneath until she was left in nothing but her long stockings and boots. Christine shivered in both anticipation and a sudden chill. Seeing this her lover picked her up and carried her to the bed. He set her down as though she were something infinitely precious and kneeled beside the bed.

He was silent and intense as he slid his hands up one silky thigh to the top of her stockings, which he rolled down in a tantalizing caress. Her other leg received the same treatment until she lay completely exposed before him.

The Phantom gazed at her full body and beautiful face. A dark look came over his face as he examined his bride's innocent perfection. Christine shivered, knowing the thoughts going through his mind but not knowing what to say to soothe him. She made an attempt, "Love, come to me and allow me to touch you."

"Would you touch me, Christine?" he asked, pulling her roughly to him by her slender thighs until her center was level with his head. "Would you deign to be with this monster?"

With those terrible questions posed to her the Phantom commenced to feast upon Christine's sweet essence hungrily. He was immeasurably tender, his experience having come from over thirty years of watching couples together from peepholes and cracks in the walls. However his eyes were hard as he watched her. He was silently daring her to turn away from his naked face.

Christine did no such thing however and kept his gaze steadily even as the pleasure built to a crescendo inside of her. A sensation she'd never felt before in all her years of studying her body in shameful secrecy overcame her mind and soul. She could only cry out her release in wonder, a mindless sound that longed to name her lover but lacked the word. When she thought she could abide the delicious agony no more, it finally subsided. She was left panting in open-mouthed amazement at the Phantom.

His face lost some of its dark glower at her obvious pleasure and brightened completely as she reached her arms out to him. He was against her in a moment, shocked at her boldness as she began pulling at his clothes in a desperate attempt to feel him naked in her hands. Christine discovered that his body held none of the deformity that took half of his face, although in her ardor she would hardly have noticed. Soon he was as exposed as she and hovering over her like the angel she'd thought he was for so long.

There was a moment, brief and sublime, when she could see their lives together flash before her eyes. They would flee until the Phantom of the Opera was simply a myth told to prospective buyers. Then they would return and make the ruins of the great building their castle. She could see the years of composing works of art and transforming the opera house to a semblance of its former glory. The thoughts filled her with a quiet joy.

The moment was gone when he slid into her slowly and she cried out at the feeling. Vestiges of their future danced behind her eyelids in a skilled ballet. There was little pain and even what there was mixed with pleasure and a sense of completion as she moved with her partner.

The aria she sang that night was not to be found on the pages of any composer's sheets, but was as familiar as the laughter of a child or the tears of a happy woman. The Phantom pulled her close and in the moment before the world shattered around her once more Christine cried out her lover's new name, the only name that she could see fitting a man such as him.

"Maestro!"


End file.
